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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap. Copyright No.. 

Shelt.L5..3S'05' 



UNITED STATES OF AMERI 



K 






-BY- 



JOSEPH S. COTTER. 



LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY. 



THE NEW South Pub. Co,, 

517 W. Walnut St., 

L Louisville, Ky. < 



A RHYMING/^ 



ev 







JOSEPH S/COTTER. 



''Thouffb old the ihoug-ht and oft expressed, 
'Tis liis at last who says it best ; 
I'll try my fortune with the rest." 

— James Russell Lowell. 



NOV 10 

Inut St., 

L Louisville, Kv. r^ 6 Y **^'' < 



THH NEW Sou¥j4HPjjB,.CO., / 

517 W. Walnut St., ^/yVyT 

Louisville, Kv. X"/ 6j ^^ 



x^^'i^- 






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TO MY WIFE. 



Cop_vrij3-hted, 18%, by 
Joseph S. Cotter. (Ka^ 



JS 



PRELUDE. 



Discerning- reader, you will quickly find 
That here's a rhymer of the ktwly kind, 
Applaud his little sallies, if you can; 
And, if you can't, just treat him like a man 
Whose aspiration wanders through the sky 
Without genius to bear it company. 



THE VOICE OF THE OCEAN 



(To THE Rev> John H. Frank.) 



As I stood beside the ocean, 

Gazing silenth^ 
At the wild waves in commotion. 

Thus it spoke to me: 

'^Thousands now are sweetly sleeping 

In my wide embrace, 
While my waves are slowly creeping 

O'er each silent face. 

''In the dark primeval ages 

That so long have flown 
Holy men and might}^ sages 

Loved to sleep in stone. 

''So vast sepulchres were hollowed 

By the hands of slaves, 
And by thousands they were followed 

To their rocky graves, 

''But the loved ones whom my billows 

Now are raging o'er 
Sank to sleep on briny pillows, 

Mid mv awful roar/' 



THE BACHELOR, 



(To Pkof. W. T. Pkvton. 



The bachelor was old and sad, 
His life was fast decaying; 

'Tis said he oft grew raving mad 
While o'er the past surve5^ing. 

He dwelt within a little hut, 

Surrounded by starvation; 
No woman called upon him but • 

By special invitation. 

There lived with him a httle boy 
Who loved to romp and tumble 

And see how much he could destroy 
To hear the old man grumble. 

He broke his pipe and spilled his snuiT 

And beat upon the kettle 
Until, in truth, it was enough 

To stir a preacher's mettle. 

At last the old man holloed out: 

"You surely are inhuman: 
I'd sooner far be buffed about 

And bothered by a woman." 



His words flew by like wind-tossed chaff 

And only tickled Harry, 
Who answered with a boyish laugh: 
• '*Then, sir, why don't yon marry ? " 

''Now, boy, the question that j^ou ask 

Is somewhat out of season, 
But yet it is an easy task 

To give to you the reason. 

"When I was in my eighteenth year 

And not a little frisky 
I stopped at everything* to i3eer 

No matter howe'er risky. 

''A few miles from my father's farm. 

Between two iittle ditches, 
I heard there dwelt, secure from harm, 

Two very pretty witches. 

''Then, thought I, this cannot be so, 

Such talk is so deceiving; 
But to convince myself I'll go. 

For 'seeing is believing.' 

"So off I started, all alone. 

Adown that muddy hollow; 
But would have stopped had I but known 

What was destined to follow. 



"At last I saw the ruined cot 

Between the little ditches, 
And paused to think whether or not 

'Twas wise to see the witches. 

**Then slowly crept on hands and feet: 
Don't think I meant to creep in, 

Or with them face to face to meet, 
But simplj^ for to peep in. 

*'Soon as I reached an open crack 
I ^azed steadfastly throug"h it: 

But, ah ! a burden met my back 
That made me doubly rue it. 

"Somehow I did not care to stay 

For any further pleasure; 
But when at last I got away 

I had a double measure. 

"And from that time on down to this, 
Although it prrves inhuman, 

I never could find happiness 
In beinjTf near a woman.'" 



10 

THE STRANGE MAN. 



(ToPkof. F. L. Williams.) 



There lived a man of low degree 

Far in a land obscure 
Who daily thanked the fates that he 

Was born so very poor. 

''The multitudes of wicked men 
Who plan and steal and lie 

Can never rob my wallet when 
I am too poor to buy. 

''Kind is the fate that w^ill not let 

Great riches bother me 
Anrl so the poorer that I get 

The happier I will be.'' 

He swore this by as many gods 

As ever lived of old, 
Meanwhile he turned the heavy clods 

In search of precious gold. 

He sang a rustic Genevieve 

At the approach of dawn, 
Then slept until the dewy eve 

And danced upon the lawn. 

He never mingled wuth the throng 
Until the day grew^ dim 



11 



He did not Irke a sin^^le s(;ii<^- 
That was not sung" by Inm. 

Whatever made all other folks 

The cup of sorrow quaff 
Seemed uuto him but witty jokes 

To make men sing" and laugli. 
And so he lived for many a year 

And san^ his own rude hymns; 
And still the people far and near 

Wondered at his stran,i^"e whims. 
Some said his eyes wonld never view 

The fast-approaching- fall; 
And others swore by all they knew 

He w^ould not die at all. 
Straig'litwa}', on hearing" this, g'rim Death 

Passed Icing" and artisan 
And most politely took the breath 

Away from this strang'e man. 
But as the people gazed on him 

And thoug-ht him stark and dead, 
He cried: "I'llg-ive you one more whim 

While on my dying- bed: 
"Play londly on the life and drum, 

Ljt flag's of triumph wave; 
And let tlie joU^t' peasants come 

And dance up )n ]ny g"rave." 



MflN DOES NOT KNOW. 



To Prof. C. W. House k. 



Man does not know. He daily look.s 
around him 
And tries to master earth and air and 
skies; 
But some mysterious power has tirml^' 
bound him 
Unto a plane from which he may not rise. 

Man does not know. He plunges into 
science 
As urchins plunge into the wooing* 
wave; 
Yet nature's highest works still bid 
defiance 
And rear up bulwarks that he maj^ not 
brave. 

Man does not know. He says that on to 
morrow^ 
He' will be in a state of ecstasy; 
But when it comes his head is bowed with 
sorrow 
And he is in the depths of miser3\ 



13 



Man does not kno^v. He tries co look 
before him 
And view the bri*;ht side of his future 
way, 
Yet who can tell but what this may throw^ 
o'er him 
A veil to hide the bright side of to-day ? 

Man does not know. He claims to have a 
spirit 

(And may he never cease believing" so) 
Ihat some far day or other w^ill inherit 

Eternal pleasure or eternal woe. 

Man dees not know^. Has he a valid 
reason 
To deem this ignorance a grave offense? 
To look for anythingbefore its season 
Sliows tlieie is urgent need of common 
sense. 

Man does not know. Suppose he were 
partaker , 

Of all that now lies hidden from his 
sight, 

Not even meeting with his blessed Maker 

Could thrill his bosom with a new delight. 



14 



Man does not know. Yet why sbonld he 
take pleasure 
In doubting- what perchance he can not 
see? 
'Or why should he believe there is no 
treasure 
Awaiting* mortals in eternity ? 

Man does not ,know. Each d.'iv he is 
receiving" 
Assistance from a pow^er out of siglTt; 
So he should never, never cease believing- 
That God will some da}' bring it all to 
lig-ht. 

Man docs not know\ O Thou Almighty 
Power, 

As thy great w^ays are past man's find- 
ing out, 

Do teacli him day by day and hour bj^ 
hour 

That loftv faith that over powers doubt. 



15 
SONNET. 



Oliver Wendell hiolmes. 

Who can hold up the intellect and say: 
*'Fromhere to there scampers a vein of wit 
With laughin^f humor by the side of it, 
Assisting* cold philosophy to play 
The game of thiniiing" ?"' Not a single ray 
That boldly shines tlierefrom will e'er admit 
Of close analj^sis. So, bit by bit 
We fall to guessing out the mind's true w^ay 
Of forming wholes. O, astute analyst, 
Atid royal mercluint in the mart of song, 
Because of this we see as through a mist 
Thy charming whole. Yet know to thee 

belong, 
Howe'er they be arranged, the Oo^l-like 

three — 
Wit, humor and sublime philosophy. 



WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER 



Thou who didst bid thy fellow-man 
Stand up erect in deed and thought, 

As noblv spent thy little span 
As any human being" ought. 

The life that smoothl}^ glides aloni^*, 
And takes its toll of eighty years, 

And sparkles with the purest song, 
Proclaims itself the peer of i^eers. 

Because of its pure warp and woof 
Shall men toil on more carnestlj^ 

And hold its lessons up in proof 
Of man's avowed divinity. 

And out of it shall spring the seeds 
Of holy actions, and the strife 

That terminates in evil deeds 
Snail vanish in the nobler life. 

So shall the world grow better through 
Thy toil, O, poet of the West, 

While thou art witii the gifted few 
Taking thy long and quiet rest. 



!•; 



TO THE MEMORY OF THE REV 
ANDREW HEATH. 



Though no more we hear the voice, 
And behold no more the face 

Of the 7.>eople's worthy choice 
In the old accustomed place, 

From his virtue each inherits 

Strength and patience to endure, 

While he, in the land of spirits, 

Dwelleth with the good and pure. 

Men may till exalted stations 
Ana be known from pole to pole 

As the idols of the nations, 
Yet be base in heart and soul. 

Not by liue or form of faces. 

Not by fluent tongue or pen, 
Noi: by high nor lowly places. 

Can we judge the worth of men. 
The delight in generous giving. 

Strength to battle with despair, 
Loftj^ aims, and upright living. 

Prove the hero ever3'^vvhere. 



18 

DESCRIPTION OF A KENTUCKY 
SCHOOL HOUSE. 



(To William M. Steward Esq.; 



In a hill-bound and somewhat rustic pocket, 
Like a rough picture in a costly locket 
With scarcely rcom enough to train a mouse, 
Stand a few boards the trustees call a house- 
The floor and ground meet on the western 

side. 
But on the east a drove of liogs miglit hide 
And make their beds within the mellow 

ground, 
And dwell day after day and not be found. 
The windows that front on the east and west 
Are much like pockets in a ragged vest — 
Pockets that have been Avorn out long ago. 
And cling about the garment just for show. 
Like to a hole cut in a massive bin 
Is the large door at which }^ou enter in, 
Ai d once within, you need not peep about 



19 



To find the many places to look out, 
For on each side, in front and at 3'our back. 
Yes, everywhere you look you'll see a crack. 
Close to the wall a pulpit stands in view, 
(For this is both a church and school-house 

too) 
And here and there, fastened with wooden 

cleats. 
Are a few boards the p'jplls use for seats. 
About the middle of the time-worn floor, 
And on a straig-ht line wuth the barn-like 

door, 
Silently stands a larg-e old. stove. Of yore 
They say it heated, but it heats no more, 
A blackboard hang's upon the southern wall^ 
And all day long- the curtains rise and fall 
Willi every gust of wund. And that is all. 



•20 

HER WAY IS THE WORLD'S WAY. 



iTo I)K. F. G. FOWLEK. 



''Jane, drive the cows to the grassy hill, 

And call the pigs together; 
And take a sack of corn to the mill, 

For this is pleasant weather. 

''And don't go moping along the road 
A-trying to lose your shadjw; 

And don't go hopping along like a toad 
From the corn-fieid to the meadow. 

"And w^hen you reach the dusty mill. 

And see that crazy miller, 
Say: 'No, no, no, you never w^ill 

Make me a clever tiller*" 

Jane drove the cows to the grassy hill. 
And called the pigs together, 

And took the sack of ^orn to the mill 
All in that pleasant w^eather. 

But did not mope along the road 
A-trying to lose her shadow, 



I'i 



And did not hop along like a toad 
Prom the corn-field to the meadow. 

But when she reached 'the dusty mill 

And saw the crazy miller, 
She said: "Yes, yes, I know you will 

Make me a clever tiller." 

She put the sack of corn aw^ay, 
And then with pleasure tarried; 

And ere the close of that bright day 
She and the miller married. 

''I'll drive the cows to the grassy hill 
And call the pigs together," 

Her mother said, ''and go to the mill 
III any kind of weather; 

"For daughter Jane has married a man 
Who is the wisest of wise millers; 

And I believe my sjul in one day he can 
Make the cleverest of tillers.'' 



2:t 



MR. GOODY'S GOAT. 



Old Mr. Goody had a goat 
That was quiet and genteel; 

His mustache started on his cbm 
And ended on his lieel. 

This goat thought he was just as smart 

As anything could be: 
He said no other goat alive 

Knew half so much as he. 

He knew that corn is made to grow, 
And eggs are made to hatch; 

But, lo, he never yet had seen 
The thing you call a m'atch. 

So, one day as be pondered o'er 

The many things he knew, 
Ht- chanced to see this very thing 

Lj'ing plainly in his view. 

Said lie: "Of all the things I've seen 
Not one ot them I've feared: 



23 



So I will take this something up 
And hang it in my beard." 

Just then a monkey came along, 

And sneeringly he spoke: 
*'The thing" that dangles from your beard 

Was clearly made to smoke." 

*'And how ?" the goat made quick reply, 
The monkey said: **Just so;" 

And gave the match a kind of stroke 
That monkeys only know. 

And in a triCe there stood a goat 

As beardless as a flea, 
And one that thought the smallest thing 

Knew just as much as he. 



1:1 

OLD BILLY OF MAIN STREET FAME. 



Man with bis mind, strong" and refined, 

Gazes from earth to lieav-en; 
And thinks straightwaj^ each precious ray 

Has unto lihn been g'lven. 

And so his pride soon sets aside 

That feeling pure and tender 
That makes him feel each creature's weal. 

And be its staunch defender. 

And hardened thus, superfluous 

Seems many a thing- that meets him; 

And blinded so, he fails to know 
Tne good in much that greets him. 

He oft perchance, in ignorance, 
Slights Nature's classic features; 

And peers around in scorn profound 
Upon the lower creatures. 

The will of God is in the clod 
Tliat decks the lowliest valley; 



And his great soul from pole to pole 
Chimes ever musically. 

Then howe'er low man's keen may go 

It finds undying- beauty; 
And a sense of this augments his bliss, 

And gives him faith in duty. 

Then why refuse to court the Muse 

For one who so discreetly 
Wove day to day in sucli a way 

He lived almost completely ? 

A rhyme or two I'm sure would be due 

To any human being 
\Y lio cculd toil So long and seldom go wrong 

Not even to disagreeing. 

i>illy*s d€eds should be writ by one whose wit 

Is ever high and holy, 
And not by me who clumsily 

Plods on so melancholy. 

Now, I frankly declare that exactly where 
To begin is a point that troubles; 



2t) 



For start where I will there's a surplus still 
Behind that recedes and doubles. 

For fear I may get too far in the debt 
Of Hannibal, Caesar or some one, 

I'll find me a point be it marrow or joint: 
Poor Billy, you see, is the dumb cne. 

He never would shirk. 'Twas his nature to 
work 

Right on for himself and his neighbor; 
For somehow he knew as all wise men do 

There's dignity in labor. 

Alas, and alack, when the time came to 
back, 

(Billy hated the idea of fighting,) 
If his neighbor was slow or impatient to go, 

He just halted and gave him a biting. 

And his nature was such that he leaned 
over much 
To the side that was burdened with 
weakness: 



And in spite of his race, 3'ou could cleverly 
trace 
Through this make-up the jewel of 
meekness. 

Well, his faults were so few and his virtues 
so true, 
I disdain to comment on the first ones; 
For the records of time have embalmed in 
smooth rhyme 
King's and queens who did worse and then 
worst ones. 

And the second so rose as to clearly disclose 
The fact that kind Nature has given 

To the down- trodden brute, though his 
reason be mute, 
A relationship honored in Heaven. 



LILY. 

To Sarah. 

She was the prettiest little maid 
That ever tripped along", 

Or sat beneath the pleasant shade 
To sing* an evening" son;^. 

The raven locks of curly hair, 
The simple, childish grace, 

Combined to make surpassing" fair 
That sweet, ang-elic face. 

And ever at her work she sang 

Some simple, rustic lay 
Until the cliffs around her rang" 

With its sweet melody. 

Her cot, beneath a rocky hill, 

Stood by an aged tree ; 
And far below a little rill 

Ran rippling to the sea. 

Along its banks she often straj-ed 
To fill her lap with flovers, 



Or in some grassy cranny played 
At building" fairy towers. 

Now, sunny April came to wake 

All nature from its sleeping" ; 
And here and there a little brake 

Above the soil was peeping*. 
And Lily thought the g'entle spring* 

Did never fairer seem, 
And hurried through her work to sing 

Beside the little stream. 
Willie sitting on its grassy brink. 

Singing her rustic lay, 
She saw the songsters light and drink, 

Then quickly flit away. 

Just then som? school-boys came along 

Upon the farther shore ; 
And straightway did she cease the song 

To row them safely o'er. 

She tried to take the little boat 

Across the stream in vain, 
And sank beneath the current swift, 

And never rose again. 



MARY. 



When 3^ou ream the garden over, 
When you trip across the lea, 

When you play amid the clover, 
Mar}^, do you think of me ? 

When you sit beside the fire 
In the closing" of the year. 

Have you still the same desire 

That once made my presence dear ? 

When the banquet hall is lighted 
For the youthful and the gay, 

And you are with the invited, 
Do you sigh that I'm away ? 

When you hear that some disaster 
Has befallen ship and crew, 

Do you wisli the hours were faster 
That will bring me back to you ? 

And, if I perchance should perish, 
While upon the briny sea, 

Mary, will you ever cherish 

All the gifts you have from me? 



SI 
ON A SUICIDE. 



Here lies a 'man who took his own sweet life 
With that world-famous instrument — a wife. 



ON A PROUD MAN 



Here lies a man w-h^se spul waj^i so 

Puffed up with pride it couldn't grow, 

Yet, may be, in the life to be 

Tlie fates will give it liberty, 

And let it reach, through steps severe, 

Tbe size it fancied it had here. 



MODERN I10MI1J:T1C8. 



Now, firstly, froiU'iny lest I str;iY 
To where lyyxJ^scoarse is bt^^jfiu ; 

And then I just say on anu any 
Until, welK T airi (l')ri*'. 



32; 

MY SONG. 



I sang" me a song*, a tiny song, • 

A song that was sweet to my sou], 

And set it a-float on the sea of chance 
In search of a happy goal. 

I said to my song: **Go on, go on 

And lodge in a tender spot 
Of some human soul where the fires ot hate 

And selfishness are not.'' 

My song went on but a little space 

And hied it back to me; 
And fell at my feet in a sorry plight---- 

The victim of cruelty. 

I gazed a moment and quickly saw 
Just how it had come about, 

A cruel critic had caught my song 
And probed the soul of it out. 

O. poor indeed is the human mind 
(And why was it ever wroug'ht ?) 

That can thrive on husk in the form of 
words, 
And not on a sturdv thou^^ht. 



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